


His One Person

by mansikka



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:39:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Magnus has never believed in soulmates. At least, he's never believed in one forhim. Though the A. L. currently writing on his arm might have different ideas...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) this is my first attempt at a soulmate fic for Malec. Thank you so very much to the incredible [michellemisfit](http://michellemisfit.tumblr.com/) who made this beautiful gif for the story! <3 It's hosted on [Fascination and Frustration](http://www.fascinationandfrustration.com/), which, if you haven't already checked it out go, go now, there are all kinds of lovely things on here!

* * *

The air is thick and heavy when Magnus steps out on to the sidewalk, but it doesn't stop him sucking in a lungful, thankful to be breathing fresh air. His client is the very definition of eccentric; something about free radicals getting in through the windows of his hotel suite doing things to his complexion. He had insisted on shut windows leaving the room stuffy and Magnus' skin pricking with clamminess as they'd worked. Magnus' arm is itching even now; probably from some of the fibers of that last suit he'd had Lorenzo try getting up his sleeve. It isn't quite warm enough out for Magnus to roll his sleeves up for some relief, so he rubs at the irritation on his forearm and looks forward to a good shower when he gets home.

This client, _Lorenzo Rey_ , is a pompous ass of a man who hasn't the slightest clue about fashion. Normally Magnus is more picky about the people he chooses to style. But he's just bought an expensive package of tickets, accommodation, and all sorts of extras for attending a London fashion show, and the fee he's charging Rey will more than cover it. Plus, Magnus won't lie, he's heard about the arrogance of the man from friends and wanted to see it for himself. Every word of every salacious rumor he's heard Magnus now knows to be true.

Still, Magnus thinks, as he looks up and down the sidewalk to get his bearings, the man pays well. Lorenzo gave him almost double in his gratitude for Magnus finding the perfect coat for a wedding he's attending in France. Magnus has made it clear his schedule is booked solid for the next few weeks and that it will take an extraordinary amount of money for him to go back. He hopes that will be deterrent enough.

Magnus adjusts his satchel strap over his shoulder and smiles as he makes his way back to his apartment, deciding that he'll stop at his favorite bakery for a treat to eat tonight. He is now free until late tomorrow morning, so even Chairman Meow can't be too grumpy for him being out for hours. No doubt his troublesome cat is currently curled up on his pillow and softly snoring, getting tufts of fur everywhere when he turns over in his sleep. But Magnus is in such a good mood that the thought of having to brush down every surface to rid it of cat fur leaves his mind as quickly as it entered. Though the image of _fur_ has Magnus scratching at his arm again as he pushes open the glass door of the bakery, cursing under his breath for choosing a shirt so tight.

"Hello, Maia."

Magnus' favorite server looks up from the thick textbook she's reading at the counter, her face breaking out into a beautiful smile.

"Magnus. I haven't seen you in days. I thought about sending out a search party."

"Oh, there's no need for anything quite so drastic."

"Still. What can I get you?"

Magnus drums his fingers along the counter edge as he peers at the offerings, deciding on a slice of raspberry swirl pound cake that he intends to savor with a pot of coffee. "That one."

"It's good," Maia tells him as she leans over to pull the stand out. "I had some for breakfast since I was running late."

"Did you sleep in?"

"More like fell asleep studying," Maia replies as she slices the cake and expertly wraps it. Magnus watches as she lowers the stand back on to its shelf and the delicate way she twists his paper bag closed.

"Perfect. Thank you."

"Quiz me."

Magnus smiles for the textbook pushed towards him and Maia raising her hands to cover her eyes. He scratches at his arm as he skims the first two paragraphs before noticing the pop quiz questions at the bottom of the page.

"Okay, Maia. What is the difference between phytoplankton and zooplankton?"

Maia snorts, slapping her hand down on the counter. "You could've given me a _real_ question?"

"That's what it says right there," Magnus insists, jabbing his finger at the page. "You didn't answer."

"Zooplankton is small animals or the immature stages of larger animals. Phytoplankton is microscopic plants. Phytoplankton is autotrophic, whereas zooplankton is heterotrophic."

Magnus gives a small round of applause which earns him a bow, before Maia's gaze is turning to his arm. He must be scratching more than he'd realized.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"You've been scratching at it since you got here," Maia tells him as she takes his money and passes Magnus his change.

"One of the hazards of working with fabrics all day long," Magnus replies as he picks up his cake and slots it into his satchel.

Maia shrugs in answer and waves, already turning back to her book as she calls out a goodbye.

Magnus makes straight for his bedroom when he arrives home, taking the pound cake from his satchel and draping the bag over a chair. Chairman Meow glares at him from his pillow though deems it acceptable for Magnus tickle his chin.

Taking the cake through to the kitchen, Magnus grabs a bottle of water on his way back out, frowning at the growing irritation on his arm. He puts on some music, kicks off his shoes, then moves to the bathroom. He quenches his thirst after unknotting his tie, checking his reflection while pulling through his belt. Magnus pops the buttons on his shirt cuffs pushing up the sleeve to try to snag these fibers tickling at him, but it's too tight.

Roughly unbuttoning his shirt, Magnus pulls it from his shoulders, tossing it behind him so he can study his arm. His stomach drops, a whistling noise beginning to fill his ears, and his fingers trembling as he brushes over the inflamed skin. Magnus wraps his fingers over his forearm denying what is there, swallowing thickly as he drops his hand to look again.

_Izzy. H M. 8._

The words aren't intimidating, and mean nothing to him. Yet the implication of what they mean leaves Magnus clutching the sink in an effort to keep upright. His reflection, so carefree just a few seconds ago, is now taut, disbelief making his eyes bright. Magnus reads the words over, feels the heat of his inflamed skin against his palm, fearing life will never be the same again.

* * *

Growing up moving from foster home to foster home, Magnus had pieced together the meaning of the soulmate bond from overheard conversations that left him terrified. Possibly, because kids can be cruel, the stories told to Magnus by those he lived with over the years meant he was adamant a soulmate bond was not something for him.

Just the thought of being forever bound to one person whether you even cared about each other or not was horrifying. Magnus can objectively see his fear is borne of foster parents who gave him the impression they were _stuck_ with him, and that those views are why he's always felt unwanted. But more than anything Magnus is sure in his heart of hearts that no one would ever _want_ him enough like that.

Sometimes when dark days have descended on him, Magnus has dreamt of being bonded to a soulmate. Of falling in love with this faceless person only for them to reject him. The thought of looking into the eyes of someone supposed to love him without question and only seeing loathing staring back at him keeps Magnus awake at night sometimes.

Magnus has so many hang-ups about everything surrounding the soulmate bond, though most are based on his fear of being nothing but a burden to someone. This evidence of his _own_ soulmate being ready to meet means everything in Magnus' life now seems impossible. He spends an hour at least in the shower wondering if he can scrub the words clean.

That a soulmate can etch the words written on their own skin into his makes Magnus feel claimed, at the same time as he's already worrying that he won't belong. By the time he has managed to calm his breathing long enough to rationalize what is happening, Magnus has eaten his way through his pound cake without tasting a thing, and drank several martinis as though they are water.

His legs are unsteady as he steps on to the balcony to clear his head, watching New York bustle beneath him as the sun sets. Magnus can't stop running his fingers over the words on his arm. He's convinced one minute he can feel them raised like a pen pressed hard into paper, and is sure the next that he can't. Magnus has tried to decipher them, putting _Izzy_ as a girlfriend who works at H&M and finishes at eight, then as an Uber passenger his soulmate needs to pick up at the same time and place.

The very act of writing on himself bewilders Magnus. Is it instinctual for a soulmate to one day get the urge to draw all over their own arms with pen? Or is this an accidental reveal of his soulmate; someone who is forgetful, doesn't keep a diary, or is too much of a troglodyte to download a note-keeping app?

The whole situation is absurd. Magnus spins on his heel heading back into the apartment, deciding to distract himself altogether by catching up with Catarina. Though it's halfway through composing a message all but inviting himself over to hers that Magnus remembers today she is pulling a double. He groans as petulantly as he wants to, slumping into an armchair as he does, just because he can.

Magnus debates calling Luke, though stops himself just in time for thinking his questions might come across as insensitive. Luke's own soulmate Jocelyn died a few years back, so although he's one of Magnus' best-placed friends to advise him on this mess, Magnus doesn't think Luke would appreciate any reminder of what he's lost. Magnus drains another martini from his glass sure he's too riled up to even get drunk, studying the glass stirring rod he mixes drinks with in thought. Magnus traces patterns into his palm with the end of it leaving no marks at all, finding himself in his room rummaging through his satchel for a pen.

Slumping down on the corner of the bed, Magnus tries to think of what he wants to say, half-convinced this is an accident and that those words weren't meant for him. After several more minutes of just staring at his arm, Magnus squeezes an ampersand between the letters H and M, then a dollar sign in front of the number eight, writing _socks? pants? lip gloss?_ after it. Then adds _with glitter_ for good luck. It seems ingenious, hilarious, and the perfect response for all of five seconds before Magnus then feels like the biggest fool. He runs to the bathroom once again scrubbing at his arm, wondering what it will do to a soulmate if he removes any marks.

It is too early to sleep, and the world outside too stifling for Magnus to want to go out. He crawls on to his couch pulling a throw down over his legs, trying to concentrate on the words of a book. He must have fallen asleep between the turning of the pages, because the thud of the book hitting the floor jolts Magnus awake. It's either that or the additions that are tingling up his arm.

The air is punched from his lungs as Magnus realizes what he's seeing, dragging himself upright from where he's sunk down in the couch. There is an arrow pointing to _Izzy_ with the words _sister/social planner_ , another towards the _H M_ reading _bar_ , and _glitter_ is underlined twice, accompanied with the worst attempts at stars Magnus thinks he's ever seen. He doesn't know what to think, but is alarmed by how _endearing_ he finds these scribbles. Is that a feeling coming from _him_ , or this _bond_ being forced on them?

Magnus is comforted somewhat to read the words _this is insane_ after all those stars. He colors some of them in as he thinks about how to respond, laughing when _seriously??_ appears next to one of the larger ones.

 _Name?_ he writes, wondering what happens when they run out of room. He receives an _A L_ back that is quickly followed with deliberate punctuation between the letters so he knows they are initials. Magnus writes his own, even adding a smiley face that soon gets dimples from his mystery writer. When he's braver Magnus adds, _what do we do now?_

 _Sleep_ , he reads seconds later followed by _early workout_ , which piques Magnus' curiosity even further. He checks the time realizing it's almost midnight, hesitating just long enough before writing _goodnight_. Then takes a few more seconds to decipher the next scribble as a hand waving.

* * *

When he wakes the next morning Magnus keeps his eyes shut tight, refusing to open them until his arm is slotted beneath his pillow. He cracks them open, holding his breath before taking a peek. That his arm is completely bare is such a relief that Magnus indulges in the thought those words were nothing but a taunting dream.

There is no _good morning_ that appears over breakfast, and no awkward greeting when Magnus indulges in a lazy morning before work. Even through checking his messages, and making sure the clothes he's put on order for his next client are ready to be picked up, Magnus' _soulmate_ doesn't have a word to say.

Magnus tries not to dwell on this, tells himself the lack of any contact is for the best. Just because soulmates are considered the most fortunate, well-rounded, content people in their society does not mean bonding is realistic or even guaranteed to work. Or _real_ , Magnus adds when he catches himself running his thumb over the length of his forearm.

Once his client is happy with their new wardrobe for their vacation and he has scheduled them another appointment for later in the year, Magnus jumps on the subway to meet his next client in a boutique store on the other side of the city. Magnus swallows back the bile rising in his throat when he steps inside for the memories that greet him. This was one of _Camille's_ favorite stores when they were together. Magnus turns his too bright smile on his client as she tries on dress after dress, refusing to notice every rack, mirror, and chair that is a reminder of _her_.

Magnus doesn't get to head home until almost nine. Unable to face the thought of cooking after so many hours, he picks up some Chinese food for dinner. It's a little out of his way, but Jade Wolf makes moo shu pork like no other place he's tried. Magnus scrapes some up with his chopsticks closing his eyes to the flavor bursting on his tongue, reminded that he hasn't eaten since breakfast.

It is when he is stripping for a much-wanted bath that Magnus acknowledges the tickling on his arm he's tried convincing himself was only in his imagination. He runs his thumb over the slightly raised surface of the letters and walks back through to the lounge for a pen before letting himself read a word.

 _Testing, testing..._ he reads first, followed by _this is ridiculous_. Then _I guess I can't keep writing myself notes on my arm anymore if you're reading them, huh?_

 _It would depend on the content of the message_ , Magnus replies, scribbling on his arm in the bathroom doorway then making himself get into the bath. He feels the scratch of a reply once he's submerged in the water, head leaned back, and is far too comfortable to look. Though he does wonder if his words have come across as flirtatious, or if soulmates have ever met each other and just decided to be friends.

With his eyes still closed Magnus rubs his arm clean, knowing instinctively the only words that will disappear will be his own. He doesn't want this, Magnus thinks, he doesn't _want_ this. Yet is reluctant to find a way to make it stop.

 _Does it hurt when I do this to you?_ Magnus reads as he's drying himself, touched at the thought this stranger is concerned.

 _No. Only a mild irritation_.

 _Funny. My siblings call me that all the time_.

 _I am sure that isn't true_ , Magnus writes once he's dressed. He's purposely chosen a sleeveless shirt so he can continue writing messages should he want to.

_M. Just so you know. I don't believe in any of this. My parents were 'soulmates' but hate each other._

Magnus is relieved once more that his _soulmate_ has doubts, though doesn't know what to tell him. _A. I would say the majority of my friends also don't truly believe in the soulmate bond. Though I am sure it has its relevance for some._

_My brother met his 'soulmate' and lost his head._

Literally? Magnus thinks to ask, only writing _oh?_ as he pours himself a glass of wine.

_It was like he forgot the whole world around him. It got better. But it was just more proof I didn't want any part of it._

This _A. L._ seems sensible if nothing else. Though Magnus has no clue how they are supposed to go beyond these few stilted words. He says as much, wondering if this person is washing the ink from their arm to make room to say more when he doesn't get an immediate reply.

 _I'm sorry. I don't think I'll be any good at this. I'm not good with people_ Magnus reads about an hour later, discarding the magazine he's reading to the couch cushion to get a better look. He tries to find the words to placate this person even if he doesn't have any answers. There is an odd twist in his stomach that Magnus doesn't know how to put a name to. Yet by the time he goes to bed he decides it's a sign he won't hear from _A. L._ again. Magnus stares up at the imperfections on the ceiling connecting familiar dots as he tries to fall asleep, knowing it's irrational to feel even more alone than he normally does.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Something is missing from Magnus. It's not the perpetual bouts of loneliness he pretends he isn't feeling, nor boredom because of a lack of work. If anything, in the three weeks since he last felt the tickle of a message on his arm from _A. L._ Magnus hasn't stopped working. He leaves his loft apartment before eight in the morning and doesn't return until almost midnight most nights. Magnus forces himself through a shower when he gets home then falls into bed exhausted, ready to do it all again the following day.

Magnus can be stood outside a changing room waiting for a client, or sat sipping complimentary coffee as he waits for a client offering encouragement as a stylist fixes their hair. Or even like today; trying to keep his focus on the make up choices his client is making and point out what will work for them. Magnus' heart isn't in it, his mind not even in the room. Somewhere in the world there is a person Magnus _thinks_ he is missing. Even though he doesn't know them at all.

Magnus catches himself running his thumb up the length of his forearm wondering if this _A. L._ might be thinking of _him_. Then comes up with a long list of excuses for why _he_ hasn't sent a message back. He doesn't like the idea of this either; there is no proof that any of this works. He can't let himself get swept up in a fantasy of someone in the world who is just for him, who will love him back just because they're _meant_ to. More than anything, Magnus doesn't want to _hope_.

Though he does trace out the words _I hope you're okay_ with his fingertips more often than he doesn't. Magnus tries to put a face to initials and from those initials form a name. He doesn't even know what _A. L._ does; Magnus wishes his mind would stop conjuring up people for him to dream about. They are all faceless, and nameless, yet every time he wakes from a dream with one of them it chips away at Magnus' heart.

Still, Magnus wouldn't be who he is without hiding his sorrows behind all manner of masks. He takes on an additional client, and decides on a change of wardrobe for himself. He even cuts and styles his hair into a mohawk that he's been toying with the idea of for years. Catarina pretended to faint when they met at Pandemonium then spent the night _giggling_ at him for all the attention his leather pants invited. Though she stoically slapped hands away from his ass on several attempts to grab it by people passing the bar, then linked arms with Magnus as they walked home at the end of the night.

Magnus is almost convinced that the entire mystery that is _A. L._ and their too brief messages was little more than a figment of his imagination and too much alcohol. He is mid-conversation with Raphael over lunch in a restaurant he's been meaning to try for weeks when he feels a familiar tickle at his inner elbow. Magnus tries to ignore it, though knows he must be doing a terrible job since Raphael's gaze repeatedly drops to his arm.

"Something you wanna share?"

"No," Magnus denies, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he wraps his fingers around the spot that's itching.

"You sure about that?"

"It's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why are you looking like you've got something to hide?" Raphael points out. Magnus' hand flies to his ear cuff for comfort, which he regrets immediately. The moment he draws his fingers away his arm it begins to sting, making Magnus rub at his skin furiously through his jacket finding no relief.

"You know, Magnus. You can't ignore those things forever," Raphael says in that sage tone of voice that Magnus hates being on the receiving end of.

"It's easy for you to say that since it isn't happening to you."

"I just haven't found my person yet," Raphael replies with an easy shrug that says he's in no hurry. Magnus can't even accuse him of gloating; it's just how he is.

"Well. Neither have I."

"Seems like they're trying to find you," Raphael says, amusement turning the corners of his mouth up into an almost-smile.

Magnus has never felt anything like it. There is a searing agony working up the inside of his arm that makes Magnus thinking of a heated knife. When he can't get his jacket off quick enough, Magnus expects to find a deep slice to his arm. His arm might be inflamed, but the only markings there are words, lots of them. Apparently this _A. L._ is trying to make up for the last three weeks in one go.

"They're eager," Raphael says as he watches the words form. Magnus shields them from his view hoping he's not read them upside down; they are private, whatever they say. He's reluctant to read them in company, and begins to come up with excuses for why he should go home.

"Well. I—"

"I should leave you to look at that," Raphael says as he nods towards Magnus' arm, draining his glass as he rises to his feet.

Magnus thinks about making him stay. He doesn't _want_ to be feeling what he's feeling. Which is _relief_ that the person currently making his arm feel like it's on fire is okay. He runs his thumb over the tender skin offering Raphael a sickly smile as he does, before draining the last of his own drink.

At home, once he's delayed looking for as long as he can stand it, Magnus throws himself down on the couch with a pen to hand. The bump of words he feels beneath his palm he can't avoid any longer. Magnus ignores the way his hands are trembling, closing his eyes for one last moment of peace, then tells himself to read.

_Hey. M. It's been a while. Guess I was overthinking all this a little. Feels weird, not talking to you. Don't know what that means. But I'm here, if you want. Fitness instructor. Archery for fun. Two brothers, one sister. New York._

Magnus doesn't know what to make of any of that, though is hit with both surprise and irritation to realize this person is also in New York. Surprise, because the idea of where his potential soulmate might live hadn't even occurred to him, and irritation, because they are _here_. It's less easy to avoid what is happening if there is, say, an ocean between them. Yet despite the millions of people that live in New York, Magnus now wonders if he's seen this person, passed them on the sidewalk sometime.

Magnus uncaps his pen, debating what he should reply with as he rereads the words. He writes _personal stylist, no family,_ and _also New York_ since he can't think of a single hobby. Then adds _it's good to hear from you. I was feeling strange too, and also don't know what that means._

There is a tickling further up his arm almost immediately which makes Magnus smile, though not as much as the badly drawn smiley face that appears first. _My idea of style is black, you'd hate me. Hate styling me anyway. I think you and my sister would get along._

_Is she also a stylist?_

_No. But she loves clothes_.

And you don't? Magnus wants to ask, curiosity now beginning to pique for wondering what his soulmate might look like. _I confess my idea of working out is usually tai chi. And I have never held a bow and quiver in my life. I'm Magnus, by the way._

 _Alec_ , he sees along with another smiley face, which puts a strange warmth in Magnus' stomach that he doesn't find himself objecting to. He even draws a terrible bow and arrow in response, his eyes blowing wide for the, _is that supposed to be cupid?_ Alec writes back.

It's cute. It _isn't_ , it's _horrifying_ that Magnus already feels himself smiling pointlessly at this stranger scribbling over his arm. It's terrifying that he's completely calm about what is happening, that this feels natural talking to _Alec_ like this. What possible sense could there ever be in evolution that meant _soulmates_ could write on each other's skin?

It doesn't stop Magnus repeatedly returning to the bathroom to wash the words from his arm to make room for more, discovering more about Alec the later it gets in the night. He learns that he is very good at archery, and that personal training is something he's good at but only chose as a career because he doesn't know what else to.

 _That's not true_ , Alec writes back, crossing out his earlier words as Magnus pauses with his pen to reply. _I was — I did — join the police. I just didn't like the way we treated people sometimes. Having rules only we got to break didn't seem right. So I quit._

Magnus is more impressed than he thinks he has any right to be, drawing back his own smiley face. _That must have been difficult_.

_My parents almost stopped talking to me. Dad's going for a commissioner post in L. A. Mom's a captain here. My brother, Jace, wants to follow in their footsteps._

_And your sister? Isabelle?_

_Works for the Office of Chief Medical Examiner._

_Well, Alexander. You all seem very smart._

_...Alexander?_

Magnus winces even though there is no one there to see it, brushing his teeth as he readies for bed so he has an excuse to delay answering. _My apologies._

_No. It's okay. No one's ever called me that before is all._

There is no reason for Magnus to find that quite so endearing, but he does anyway. Magnus finishes getting changed then plumps his pillows, wondering how to finish their conversation for the night. _I have an early client_ , he writes, which is true and makes him set an alarm before he can forget to do so. _I should probably sleep soon_.

_So should I. I'm sorry I left it so long. But I didn't know how to deal with this._

"And you do now?" Magnus says out loud, drawing his comforter up over his lap. _This is still… confusing. Though I do feel better for having talked with you_. And it's true. Magnus wants to be more indignant that these few words between them this evening have made him feel more _whole_. Yet it's a sensation he likes for being so unfamiliar with it. If he chooses to bask in it a little as he figures things out, then so be it.

 _I do too_ , Alec writes back. _This is all very new. Different. But good different. I'm… relieved, I guess, that it's you. Which makes no sense…_

"I know exactly what you mean," Magnus replies, saying it more to Chairman Meow, who is currently sprawled out on the pillow beside him. He presses his head into Magnus' hand when he rubs between his ears, purring in contentment, and delaying Magnus from answering. _It does make sense. This feels new — very new. And yet also not new at all. Which also possibly makes no sense._

_No. Magnus, it does make sense. I just don't know what to do with it, is all._

_Neither do I,_ Magnus admits, thinking that if he doesn't put a stop to this conversation then they will just keep speaking about nothing late into the night. _Sleep, Alexander_ , he writes, before he can say anything else.

 _Goodnight, Magnus. We'll speak soon_.

Magnus settles on his back staring up at the ceiling, his fingers trailing through Chairman Meow's fur. He tries to conjure a face so he can more easily see _Alec_ , and isn't sure he'll do much sleeping at all.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Alec likes dancing, and playing pool. His favorite place to eat in New York is a sandwich bar near Central Park. He's never heard of any of Magnus' favorite fashion designers, and his brother's girlfriend is the only person he knows who's managed to get him interested in art.

Magnus has learned many things about Alec over the last few weeks and has willingly shared all kinds of details about himself. For everything he tells Alec, three questions come back, yet Magnus finds he does the same with Alec. He's _fascinated_ , without them even meeting. Every single word Alec writes Magnus feels like he's hanging from waiting for more. Yet perhaps the most strange but joyful thing about the entire situation is the lightness it's put in his heart. Magnus feels like it was a lifetime ago when he last went to bed feeling alone, since he and Alec speak late into the night.

Alec suggested they exchange numbers yesterday. It makes sense, though Magnus still feels the need to write something to Alec on his arm. Luke told him that urge will lessen once they've met in person, and that one day Magnus will come to cherish this way of connecting with Alec that he can only do with him. So for now, they alternate between texting and writing short messages into their skin, with Magnus still fascinated with the raised bump of Alec's penmanship there beneath the pad of his thumb.

"You're either nervous, thinking, or constipated," Catarina tells him, calling Magnus back from where his imagination had been wandering to.

"I'm none of those things."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive," Magnus replies, already up and pulling together the ingredients to make them another cocktail so he doesn't have to look her in the eye.

"You're different. Already," Catarina says as she follows him, watching Magnus as he prepares their drinks.

"My dear, it is not possible for a person to be different because of another person in just a matter of weeks."

"Oh yeah? Remind me what you were like when you inflicted _Camille_ on all of us."

The point of Magnus' earcuff is soothing when he presses his finger into it, before he snatches up their glasses to carry through. Still doing his best to avoid Catarina's eyes.

"This is _different_ ," he says the moment he's sat again, taking a sip of his drink before he can blurt anything else out.

"Well of course it is. This is supposed to be your one person. Not some _skank_ who tramples her stilettos all over your poor heart."

There would have been a time when Magnus might have bristled at Camille being referred to as a _skank_. Yet he's barely thought of her in years with anything other than mild bad feeling and disdain. So he shrugs his shoulders, pressing his hand against his pant leg when he feels his phone vibrate.

"See? You're not even rushing to defend her."

Magnus doesn't respond to Catarina for looking at his phone to find another message from Alec. He balances his phone on his thigh as he unlocks it, willing it to open faster as he almost drains his glass. His heart thuds loud enough for Magnus to press his hand over it as the image on the screen unpixelates, and he finds himself looking at _him_. There is a hard tug just beneath his sternum, like some cosmic chiropractor has righted his spine.

"Magnus?"

"It's Alec," Magnus says, aware his voice feels distant. How else would it sound when it feels like his heart has both been wrenched and anchored to the man staring up at him from his phone screen?

"Oh."

Irritation flares through Magnus for the few seconds it takes Catarina to sit beside him, close enough to almost be in his lap. Though he turns the phone immediately for her to see, only clicking his tongue when she reaches out to zoom in.

"What? I need a proper look."

"You cannot interrogate the man through this cell phone."

"I can try," Catarina mumbles just loud enough for Magnus to hear, though backs it up with a nudge against his shoulder and a teasing smile. "I can look out for my best friend, can I not?"

"I suppose," Magnus replies, though he's too busy learning every feature of Alec, angling the phone in every direction to get the image in the best light. He is _beautiful_ ; Magnus knows that it isn't even the bias of this _bond_ talking. Magnus is already planning his outfit for the first time he meets Alec in person wanting to look _good_ for him.

"Do I need to take a picture of you to send back? Or do you want me to leave so you can spend the rest of the night getting the perfect selfie?"

"Catarina," he chides, "you and I made plans to spend the evening together. Just because—"

"You're already replying," she says, prodding at Magnus as he tries to type with one finger. "Which you _should_. I'm gonna find some snacks."

Magnus quickly pushes his glass on the table beside him so he can answer properly, taking his own selfie and blaming any poor quality on how rushed it is. His arm begins to itch the moment Catarina walks back through with her arms piled high with chips, crackers, and chocolate. He shoves up his sleeve as Catarina arranges their snack bowls on the table, and thinks he might not ever stop smiling.

 _Damn_ , Magnus reads, a warmth pooling in his gut, _I lucked out. You're beautiful._

 _As did I_ he quickly writes back with what has become his favorite pen. He draws a heart that Alec then colors in and draws an arrow through.

"Anything good?" Catarina asks as she sits again, reaching for both their glasses. Magnus covers his arm instinctively to shield it from her view.

"We are just saying hello."

"Right," Catarina replies, clearly not believing him.

Magnus' phone vibrates; Catarina's gaze falls to it with a knowing smile.

" _I hope you're having a good evening with your friend_ ," Magnus reads.

 _"I am_ ," he replies, _"thank you. Perhaps if you aren't sleeping, I will message you when I go to bed?"_

_"I look forward to it."_

Magnus' cheeks hurt from smiling despite the simplicity of their words. He feels a tickle on the inside of his arm again, pushing up his sleeve to see it. Alec has drawn another heart.

* * *

"So why haven't you met this _Alec_ yet?"

Magnus inspects the tomatoes he is buying for the dinner he is making tonight. Luke's question goes unanswered until he's ordered, Magnus holding his hand up once again telling him to wait as he pockets his change.

"Because neither one of us have ever been comfortable with the idea of _soulmates_."

"So you're taking your time?" Luke asks, getting the attention of a stallholder to buy something of his own.

"Something like that. Luke; I don't think I have ever felt so… out of my depth."

Luke's eyebrow raise is impressive, even for him. It's testament, possibly, to the words Magnus has just let out of his mouth. Never has he been quite so open about struggling with something, preferring to keep his troubles close to his heart. But he and Alec have been messaging back and forth for coming up to three months now. It's beginning to _hurt_ for not seeing him, yet neither he nor Alec are feeling ready enough to arrange it.

"You're not supposed to feel out of your depth. This soulmate thing's just _instinctive_ , you know?"

"Obviously I don't know."

Luke nods in agreement, waving a hand in apology before pointing out the butchers he wants them to go to next. "Okay. So maybe you don't. But are you telling me that you and Alec don't already _feel_ that you're supposed to be together?"

"I'm not saying that at all."

He isn't; Magnus _knows_ he needs to be with Alec. As connected as they feel through their messages, and as _whole_ as he's felt since they exchanged pictures, there is still a hollow in Magnus' gut for them not meeting in person. He knows, as Alec does, that the moment they see one another there won't be any turning back. It's one of the reasons why they keep finding excuses to delay things. Though it's getting harder to justify it for how bad they are both feeling without one another.

"Magnus?"

"What?"

"I said," Luke says, nudging against his arm, "so what are you saying?"

"Oh."

Magnus tries to think his way through the fog in his mind and comes up empty, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it and that not working either. He could list their work, their schedules, even how little they know about each other as reasons for avoiding meeting up. But every excuse is increasingly desperate. So he shrugs instead of answering, stopping Luke from asking more questions by ordering some steaks.

Magnus is hosting a poker night at his apartment this evening, planning on feeding everybody before their game. Alec tells him he too is pretty good at poker, and it had been on the tip of Magnus' tongue to invite him along. But the first time he sees Alec he doesn't want any other company but his. They'll need time to get used to one another, and Magnus doesn't want to share Alec with anyone.

"Hey. Earth to Magnus."

Magnus huffs at the back of Luke's hand slapped against his chest, flicking it away. "What?"

"Give me some details, Magnus."

"Such as?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Well," Magnus says, gesturing for another aisle of the market for them to walk down hoping to pick up some fresh herbs. "He is a personal trainer. He has hazel eyes. Siblings. He is adorably hopeless when it comes to fashion."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, that he barely wears anything that isn't plain _black_. Though he even manages to make that look good," Magnus adds mostly to himself, playing with his earcuff for remembering a picture Alec had sent him yesterday from the gym. Magnus has never been so transfixed by a _vest_. Or tattoos. Alec has a large neck rune that Magnus has lost sleep to thinking about.

"I see."

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it."

"Magnus, c'mon. Let me have my fun; I never get to tease you."

"You are getting closer and closer to getting yourself uninvited this evening, Lucien," Magnus warns him without meaning it, nudging for them to move.

"Hey. It's me bringing the liquor tonight. You couldn't turn me away if you tried," Luke says, triumphant as he gestures for Magnus to stop at another stall.

"Don't be so sure."

Luke laughs, turning to order some herbs of his own. Magnus glances over what is on offer and does the same. They check to see if there is anything else either of them needs then make their way out of the market. Magnus wishes he'd put on a thinner jacket for how warm it is.

"So? What else do you know? About Alec?" Luke asks when he offers to walk in Magnus' direction.

"He does archery. He tells the absolute worst jokes," Magnus adds, smiling in affection for remembering the last one. Something to do with elephants. Or maybe cows.

"Like yours are any better."

Magnus scowls, which only makes Luke laugh hard. "For all I know, you might actually _know_ Alec."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

"Well. He left the NYPD to set up his own business as a personal trainer. His entire family work in law enforcement, actually."

Luke's eyes narrow. Magnus slows down immediately for how he almost comes to a stop. "All of them?"

"His sister works for the Chief Medical Examiner. His father works for the police in Los Angeles. His mother is a captain here. And his brother—"

"Wait," Luke says, grabbing his arm. His eyes are round in alarm, which puts Magnus on edge even if he doesn't know the reason for it.

"What is it?"

"Lightwood. You're talking about Alec _Lightwood_?" Luke demands, digging his fingers into Magnus' arm.

"I suppose. _Yes_ ," Magnus agrees, his heart beginning to thud faster for how pale Luke is starting to look. "What is it?"

"Maryse. Alec's mom is _Maryse_. Your soulmate is Maryse's _son_."

"Luke—"

"This is too weird," Luke says, waving his hand in denial and turning on his heel. "I need a minute. I need… I'll see you tonight, Magnus."

Magnus opens his mouth to speak but Luke is already walking away, watching as he disappears along the sidewalk.

* * *

Over scotch, and even if Magnus does say so himself, excellent steaks, Luke reveals the story of Maryse. How he and Maryse had dated throughout high school and the start of college, sure they were one another's soulmates for how in love they had been. Until _Robert Lightwood_ had joined the college midway through a semester, and Maryse had begun to receive his messages on her arm.

A few years later Luke had met Jocelyn, though he'd never truly got over the sting of how he'd lost Maryse. Maryse and Robert were forced together by their traditional parents even if they didn't particularly care for one another. Luke has spent his career trying not to run into Maryse for all the painful memories seeing her would bring back.

"Jocelyn would want you to be happy," Alaric says as he tosses some chips into the middle of the table.

"Not like this," Luke denies, barely glancing at his cards.

"Of course she would. No one would expect their soulmate to spend their whole lives lonely just because _they_ were gone."

Magnus agrees with Alaric's logic, though for the turmoil on Luke's face doesn't add anything further. He debates sharing the news with Alec, doing so much later when he's tucked up in bed that night.

 _"She mentioned someone named Luke to Izzy and me once,"_ Alec texts him, _"not long after she divorced my dad. She was pretty drunk."_

Magnus has no idea what to make of that. He moves to get more comfortable, sliding another pillow under his head. _"How was your day?"_

_"Long. I had three clients together this afternoon, one bride and two bridesmaids, all wanting to get in shape for a wedding. One guy this morning announced he wanted to run a marathon two months from now and we spent hours devising a training schedule that'll fit in with his work. I fit in a couple of others I see once a week who needed to change their times, and my guy who likes to run the Hudson River path met me at six."_

_"You must be exhausted,"_ Magnus writes back, holding on to a retort about the benefits of a good bath.

_"I'm almost asleep now."_

_"Then you should sleep."_

_I didn't want to sleep before saying goodnight to you_ , Magnus feels then reads on his arm a moment later, running his thumb over the raised letters unable to stop smiling.

_Then, say goodnight to me, so you can sleep. I assume you have an early start?_

_Very. Send coffee?_

_I'll send you anything you want_ , Magnus replies. _Name it_.

_"Magnus. You don't have to do that."_

_"No. But I want to. What would you like? And where?"_

Magnus looks between his arm and his phone in anticipation wondering if Alec will even let him send him anything. Or even if he'll want to.

 _"I'd say join me for breakfast,"_ Alec writes back after a break that Magnus is sure can't be as long as it feels. _"But it'll be early. And besides. I don't think I'll focus all day if the first time I see you is before work."_

 _"Perhaps we can have dinner sometime,"_ Magnus suggests with his heart in his throat for how Alec might answer. _"Though I really would like to at least send you something for breakfast."_

_"Dinner? Magnus. I'm not eating a thing when we meet for the first time. I'll be too nervous; mostly about spilling something on my clothes and you hating me for it. But yes. Definitely soon. And surprise me with breakfast. Black coffee, and something sweet."_

Magnus laughs, far harder than is probably necessary. _"Alexander. I am sure there is nothing in this world I could possibly hate you for."_

_"Even if everything in my closet is black?"_

_"Everything in my closet is not. You should let me dress you."_

Again Magnus worries about his words, surprised when it's his arm tickling instead of an alert showing on his phone for Alec's next response.

_I thought of a response to that which is probably too inappropriate._

Magnus turns his head to hide in his pillow to laugh. _Perhaps I should wait for it in person._

_The response? Or what the response was?_

_The choice is yours, Alexander,_ Magnus writes, with a crude winky face. Flirting is new to them, but something he really likes.

 _Soon_ , he reads next, along with a, _what's that supposed to be?_ and an arrow pointing to the face. Magnus's face hurts from smiling. He wants to ridicule himself for it but doesn't.

 _"So,"_ he types, trying to rein in the conversation, _"breakfast. Black coffee and something sweet?"_

_"It would be weird to ask you to be my something sweet now, wouldn't it?"_

_"Very. But I would like if you said it anyway."_

_"Because I'm so awful at this?"_

_"No. Because everything you say makes me smile."_

Magnus has never smiled this much in his entire life. What kind of simpleton will he become once he's actually _met_ Alec?

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next week, Magnus arranges for breakfast to be delivered to Alec to an entrance outside the subway at South Ferry, two gyms across the city, and The Ramble in Central Park. Maia's teasing that Alec must be someone special for him to be going to such lengths to feed him Magnus barely blushes for each time she says it. She happily takes his order, and yesterday even pushed a new cake on him to take home to try. Magnus liked it enough to call the bakery and add it to Alec's breakfast order mid-week, reasoning that there is always a good time to have cake. Even at breakfast.

In turn, Alec has sent him flowers, chocolates, and a stuffed toy cat that has been claimed by Chairman Meow. Magnus had half-wanted Alec to turn up on his doorstep with the gifts in person after telling Alec his address, but is also glad he hasn't. Their first meeting needs to be perfect, which means _he_ needs to be perfect. He can't be that, if Alec shows up unannounced.

The need to be _perfect_ for Alec has hit Magnus hard in the past couple of days. It isn't anything Alec has said; in fact, he's fairly sure Alec would be embarrassed by the thought of him going to any effort for him. But insecurities have always plagued Magnus whether things are going well for him or not. He pleads with himself not to mess things up; even if in this situation he technically _can't_.

"What are you worrying about?" Ragnor asks impatiently when he calls him, apparently pacing around his house for how out of breath he sounds. "Surely this is everything you have ever wanted?"

"Just because I _wanted_ to be in a relationship does not mean I am _ready_ to be," Magnus argues, thankful when he hears Ragnor sit down.

"My dear friend. You only have to _let_ yourself have this. This bond you share is instinctual, an act of nature. You will only _mess things up_ if you continue to avoid meeting this _Alec_."

It's enough wisdom for one day, Magnus thinks, glad when Ragnor receives another call. Though he's right; in theory, he and Alec are meant for one another. There has been no difficulty between them aside from the initial shock, and all the typical things that would make Magnus stumble haven't happened at all. He is silly with Alec, flirtatious, ridiculous at times as well; Alec laps everything up. And, Magnus realizes after several conversations reveal Alec is more used to being reserved, Alec feels just as at ease with him.

That Alec has barely dated, much less had a relationship before now doesn't concern Magnus in the slightest. This is a new experience they will share together, that they're already working through together now. Magnus is excited; every moment he thinks about it, every new message he receives, every time he does as much as _think_ about Alec.

They arrange to meet on a Wednesday evening, when both of them are free from work. Magnus pushes back appointments a little later for Thursday just in case they stay out late, and smiles when Alec messages to say he's doing the same. He tries on seventeen different outfits and styles his hair almost as many times, putting on and taking off more jewelry than he was even aware he had.

Magnus settles for a black and white shirt with a black vest buttoned over the top of it, and slightly tighter than normal pants. His most comforting ear cuff and rings go on next as he debates his make up, thankful he's getting ready so ridiculously early. Otherwise, he'd never be close to leaving on time.

Magnus' heart is pounding as he makes his way to the subway station, needing to get to where he's meeting Alec on foot because he has too much nervous energy to sit still in a cab. Even then his fingers are either drumming impatiently against his leg, or continually fiddling with his ear cuff enough for him to need to reposition it twice.

They are meeting in the Hunters Moon, a place familiar to them both; Magnus sometimes goes there when he's been working late, and it's the bar Alec was meeting his sister Izzy in when Magnus first started receiving his messages. Magnus hopes there is a pool table free, so they have something to focus on other than themselves. He has a feeling they'll need it. There is this flighty feeling in his chest for the prospect of seeing Alec within the next few minutes that means Magnus won't be surprised if he grabs Alec and kisses him the second he sees him. He'll try not to, of course, try to show some sense of pride and a modicum of decency. But the thought of really being able to _touch_ Alec has kept him awake at night.

The last few steps between the subway station and Hunters Moon are hard ones, for Magnus' instincts barrelling him forward, and the last tendrils of doubt trying to pull him back. He pushes them away, refusing to let anything cloud his thoughts. He's going to see _Alec_. He's going to take the first steps into the rest of his life.

The bar is full when he pushes the door open, the noise of talking and music blasting out into the night. Magnus freezes just inside the doorway for seeing Alec at the other end of the bar, that tug to his sternum even firmer than before. Magnus massages over it, glad Alec's head is bent as he makes his way through the crowd. He thinks he must be checking his phone, hopes he hasn't missed any messages from him on the way. But there is no need to check, no need to do anything but get to Alec _now_.

About two feet before Magnus gets to him Alec looks up, and Magnus jolts like he's been stunned. Alec's eyes get wider as he draws himself up to full height, apparently experiencing that same tugging to his chest that Magnus is. Magnus watches, unable to move, or think, or even breathe, really. Watching as Alec's face breaks out into a smile.

"Magnus," he says pushing away from the bar as Magnus steps forward until they are stood just inches apart. Staring, mesmerized, unable to snatch their eyes away from one another. Just as Magnus had been expecting them to behave.

"It's good to see you, Alexander," he says, loathing that his words come out choked. Magnus doesn't want to sound anything but the elated he is feeling. Not trusting himself to form more words in case they come out just as broken.

Alec's smile is one of reassurance. Though even he can't hide the trembling of his hand. Magnus stumbles a final step closer, reaching to cradle Alec's head, swirling his thumb at the back of his ear. Alec half-closes his eyes as he leans into it, opening them to look at Magnus with such intensity that once again he forgets how to breathe.

"Magnus," Alec whispers, pulling him into his arms. Their chests bump together, and Magnus knows he will never feel empty again.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Light streams into his apartment promising Magnus a beautiful day off. He stretches as he makes his way through the lounge with his robe on but unfastened, bending to croon a good morning to Chairman Meow curled up on an armchair in what's become his latest favorite spot. Chairman Meow looks up at him and stretches, digging his claws harder into  _his_ toy cat.

In the kitchen Magnus puts on coffee to brew while pouring orange juice, plating up the blueberry muffins Maia insisted he try yesterday. There is not a thing he has to do; Magnus has every intention of turning his phone off altogether when he goes back through to the bedroom.

His arm begins to tickle as he leans back on the counter waiting for the coffee, Magnus smiling before he even looks. _Why are you up?_  he reads, quickly loading up a tray.

"Because," he says, as he walks back into the bedroom to find Alec curled up on his side, pen still clutched in his fingers as though he has further words to write. "I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed."

"Oh."

Magnus lowers the tray to the bed watching Alec smile and turn his face into the pillow, laughing when he gets his attention by slipping off his robe. "Is that okay?"

"Of course," Alec says, patting the bed to his side in invitation. "We don't have to get up yet though, do we?"

"We don't," Magnus agrees, lifting up the tray. Alec takes advantage of Magnus not having his hands free by draping his arm over Magnus' waist and pulling himself closer. Magnus balances the tray low on his thighs to give Alec room, playing with his hair as Alec drops kisses over his stomach.

"Good morning," Alec says as he pitches up the bed, dropping his head in Magnus' neck.

"Good morning."

"Did you sleep?"

"I always do with you," Magnus replies, his thumb to the back of Alec's ear when he looks up and echoing his smile.

It's only been a few months, but for how easy things are between them it might as well be years. Magnus smiles as Alec leans into his hand, thankful that this is how he gets to start his day.

"You and me both," Alec whispers, nuzzling against his cheek, before pressing the softest of kisses to his mouth.

"Then, you'll just have to stay this evening as well."

There is no hope in Magnus' voice when he says it, for knowing he doesn't even have to ask.

"And tomorrow?" Alec says, getting a kiss to Magnus' palm as he withdraws it.

"And tomorrow."

"Maybe all week?" Alec asks, smiling his way into another kiss.

It isn't as though Alec's been home much in the past month. Half his clothes are already here in Magnus' closets. There is a second toothbrush in the holder in the bathroom, and Alec has taken to using all the same toiletries as Magnus already does.

"Alexander," Magnus says, convinced he's forgotten how to sleep without Alec. "You are welcome to stay as often and for as long as you want."

"I could… move in," Alec says, moving to sit crossed legged, and beginning to feed Magnus pieces of a muffin.

Magnus, who had always thought he would be alone. Who'd worried his only role in life was to help those who needed him, and be a burden to those who didn't. Here he is, sprawled out with his boyfriend, his _soulmate_ , his _one person_ when he'd never thought anyone would love him at all. He has everything he wants. There is no thought in his head that Alec moving in would be too soon. It's just a natural progression of who they are, and the life they are making together.

"I would like that, Alexander," he says, soft because he can hear his own voice cracking.

"Then you have me. Forever," Alec tells him, raising Magnus' hand to kiss the back of.

Forever sounds so long, and yet with Alec seems not enough time at all. Their wedding, future children, and all kinds of cherished moments like this one now flash through Magnus' mind in an instant, leaving him to want everything at once.

"We could move you in today," Magnus says, excitement about this next step they will take quickening his breath.

"Tomorrow," Alec whispers, lowering the tray to the floor and straddling Magnus' lap. "Let's just… stay right here today."

"All day?"

"That okay?"

"Well," Magnus says, stroking his hands over Alec's thighs as he pretends to think about his question, "our coffee will get cold."

" _Magnus_ ," Alec says with an exasperated exhale, already pitching to the side so Magnus has to grip him to keep him from falling.

Alec hands him his coffee, smiling at Magnus as he drinks. He swallows it in a few scalding gulps before wriggling with impatience for Magnus to do the same.

"So. What did you want to do today, if we're not going anywhere?" Magnus says, squeezing Alec's thigh when he lowers the cups to the tray again.

Alec opens his mouth to speak but instead reaches for a pen on Magnus' nightstand, smiling as he starts writing on his arm. Magnus watches him write, waiting until he leans to put the pen back before reading.

_Start my forever with you._


End file.
